


got you in my head

by tardigradeschool



Category: Dimension 20 (Web Series)
Genre: F/F, First Kiss, Sharing a Bed, Sleepovers, like what if we lived together :o and we were both girls, set during that period in season one when kristen was living with fig and gilear, sorta - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-18
Updated: 2020-07-18
Packaged: 2021-03-05 07:26:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25346935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tardigradeschool/pseuds/tardigradeschool
Summary: Kristen starts, and then stops. “Like, how am I supposed to know if I want to kiss girls in real life if no girls in real life will kiss me? I mean, Tracker did, but it was for like two seconds and I’m pretty sure I blacked out.”“I’d kiss you,” Fig says, offhand. “I’m honestly a little offended you didn’t ask.”Kristen squints at her in the dark. “Do you mean that?” she asks hesitantly.“It wouldn’t have to count,” Fig says eagerly, wiggling closer. “Like, it’s just research for you about kissing girls and just practice for me so I can get super good at kissing.”Kristen pauses. “A zero-th kiss,” she says thoughtfully. “You’re really smart, you know that?”
Relationships: Kristen Applebees & Figueroth Faeth, Kristen Applebees/Figueroth Faeth
Comments: 4
Kudos: 66





	got you in my head

**Author's Note:**

> title from hayley kiyoko's sleepover obvs obvs obvs

“I’m going to meditate for the night,” Gilear announces to the room at large. “Please don’t set the apartment on fire again.”

Fig snickers, digging her elbow into Kristen’s ribs. “Sure,” she says. “Have fun quote unquote meditating. Wink wink.”

Gilear sighs. “If you must know, that is inaccurate. I have not known pleasure since your mother and I made the mutual decision to separate.”

“I don’t think we did have to know,” Kristen says. She’s lying upside down on the coach, legs slung over the back and head dangling off the seat. “But like, is it because you don’t want to -- or like you can’t, like physically--?”

“Good night, Gilear!” Fig says loudly and Gilear shuts the door. 

Riz left when his mother got home, around eleven, leaving about six Cheez-It bags torn to shreds on the ground, so it’s just Fig and Kristen now. It’s almost one now on a Tuesday night. Fig fucking loves living with Gilear. (Okay, there are drawbacks. Neither Kristen nor Fig could decide who should get the couch, so they’ve both been sleeping on the floor, using couch cushions for pillows, and Fig’s back does hurt a little. But crashing on the floor is something real artists do, so she’s into it.) 

Kristen is already starting to get the blinky look she gets when she’s about to conk out. On her best night, she can only last until around two in the morning. Fig takes pity on her. “Bedtime for us too, babes,” she says, patting Kristen on the shoulder. Kristen leans sleepily into the contact.

“Okay,” she says, a little dopey, dimpling when she smiles. Fig resists the urge to poke a finger into the dip in her cheek. 

Their bedtime routine is pretty simple: chug the last few sodas, brush their teeth in the kitchen sink, pull on a few extra layers. The heating’s broken on their side of the Strongtower Luxury Apartments, so Fig sleeps in sweatpants over leggings and a sweatshirt she stole from Gilear. Kristen wears one of Fig’s warmer turtlenecks under one of the three tie-dye shirts she grabbed when she left home and a pair of Fig’s ratty pajama pants that are a little too short.

Kristen is already snug in her sleeping bag as Fig flicks off the light and climbs over the couch to join her on the floor. “I can’t believe I never slept until I realized I was a tiefling,” she says. “I can get by with trancing because I’m still half elf but sleeping is  _ so  _ much better.”

“It’s confusing, honestly,” Kristen says. “I keep having, um. Really weird dreams.”

Fig wiggles her eyebrows, then realizes that Kristen doesn’t have darkvision. “Gay dreams?” she guesses, grinning.

Kristen is silent. Suspiciously so. She’s squished up in her sleeping bag so most of her face is hidden.

“It’s okay if it is!” Fig says. “Totally okay. I feel like it’s good to explore that stuff.”

Kristen’s face emerges, just a little. “You think so?”

“For sure,” Fig says. “I sometimes dream about the other members of the cheerleading squad. The girls on the bottom of the pyramid are way stronger than they look, you know. Most of them could lift me without even thinking about it.”

“That’s hot,” Kristen says, and then hides her face again. 

Fig nods. “For sure,” she says. 

“But how do you know…” Kristen starts, and then stops. “Like, it’s dreams, you know? Like how am I supposed to know if I want to kiss girls in real life if no girls in real life will kiss me? I mean, Tracker did, but it was for like two seconds and I’m pretty sure I blacked out.”

“I’d kiss you,” Fig says, offhand. “I’m honestly a little offended you didn’t ask.”

Kristen squints at her. “Do you mean that?” she asks hesitantly. 

“It wouldn’t have to count,” Fig says eagerly, wiggling closer in the dark. “Like, it’s just research for you about kissing girls and just practice for me so I can get super good at kissing.”

Kristen pauses. “A zero-th kiss,” she says thoughtfully. “You’re really smart, you know that?”

“Yes I am, thank you,” Fig says. It occurs to her that it’s a little unfair that she has darkvision and Kristen doesn’t, so she reaches a hand out and puts it on Kristen’s shoulder. She’s not expecting Kristen to jump.

“Ah!” she yelps, and Fig quickly puts the hand over Kristen’s mouth instead.

“Shh,” Fig hisses. “Gilear, remember?”

Kristen nods solemnly behind her hand. Her eyes are huge and serious. 

“I think it will be easier if we’re sitting up,” Fig says, after a moment of contemplation. Kristen’s breath is warm on her palm. “Will you be chill if I take my hand away?” Kristen nods.

There’s an awkward shuffling and rustling of sleeping bags as they both move. Fig lets hers fall around her waist. Kristen has hers pulled up around her shoulders. She looks way more nervous than Fig feels.

Without thinking, she takes Kristen’s hand. Kristen grips tightly back. “We don’t have to,” Fig says. “It’s just practice, remember?”

“Right, of course,” Kristen says. She’s nodding a little too hard. “No, we should. Strictly for research purposes. Obviously.”

“Obviously,” Fig echoes. She leans in, heart racing in her chest, hand sweaty in Kristen’s grip. After a long moment, it becomes clear that Kristen isn’t moving. She looks slightly frozen. Fig takes matters into her own hands and pushes herself forward until their knees are touching. She puts her other hand on Kristen’s cheek. It’s soft. “Is this okay?”

Kristen swallows. “Yeah,” she says, so softly that Fig sees her mouth form the word more than she hears the sound.

Fig squeezes her hand. “Cool,” she says, and leans forward further to press their mouths together before Kristen can have a literal heart attack.

It’s a little too dry, at first, chapped lips on chapped lips, then a little too wet as Fig opens her mouth a little more than necessary. Kristen pulls back momentarily, and Fig’s stomach sinks a little - clearly she needs the practice, if Kristen can’t even kiss her for five whole seconds - but then Kristen seems to regain control of her own body, leaning back in with surprising confidence. This time their lips fit together more smoothly; Kristen tilts her head the right way instead of sitting back straight like a mannequin, and Fig feels a thrill down her spine as she leans into it. Kristen tastes like the mint toothpaste they both use. 

When Kristen does break away, it’s to whisper, “Was that okay?” Even in the muted colors of Fig’s dark vision, she can tell Kristen has gone red under her freckles.

Fig’s fingers are still tangled in the back of Kristen’s loose ponytail. “Mm-hmm,” she says, a little dazed. 

Kristen takes a deep breath. “Thanks,” she says hoarsely. “Um, this is some. Interesting data. I’ll run the numbers.”

“Shit,” Fig says, blinking. “Apparently I gotta run some numbers too.”

“Oh no,” Kristen says, covering her mouth. “I’ve infected you--”

Fig shakes her head. “If anything, the cheerleaders infected me in eighth grade,” she says. “But I’m pretty sure that’s not how it works.” She squeezes Kristen’s hand again, which is still quite sweaty. “Thanks, man.”

“Thank you,” Kristen says again. She doesn’t seem to be letting go of Fig’s hand, but Fig doesn’t mind. There’s an awkward beat before Kristen says, “We should probably get some sleep. I have a test tomorrow.”

“For sure,” Fig says. “I think I have one too, but I ace the barbarian tests every time so I never bother studying.”

Kristen smiles, lopsided. “You’d be a good barbarian,” she says, letting go. She settles back down into her sleeping back, scrunching up and turning over. 

“Thanks,” Fig says genuinely, and lies down too. The cheap Strongtower linoleum is cool and slightly sticky under her palm, the familiar feeling helping her heart slow back down. Usually Kristen falls asleep supernaturally fast, but her little snuffling snores don’t start as fast as they normally do.

Just when Fig is on the edge of sleep, Kristen says, in her raspy whisper, “And you’re a good kisser too. By the way.”

Fig’s too tired to form words, but she falls asleep grinning.


End file.
